Between The Wheels
by AnneKB
Summary: A Year and a half later. Sequel to "From There to Here."
1. Chapter 1

* * *

Disclaimer: Still not mine – darn it.

A/N: This story has been in the works for a long time, and I'd really like to finish it.

This is a sequel to "From There to Here," and is written in the same style – it is a "wrap-around" for "Under the Influence," and contains scenes from quite a few episodes from Season 8.

* * *

_Prologue_

"How often – will it be for always? – How often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say 'I never realized my loss until this moment?' The same leg is cut off time after time. The first plunge of the knife into the flesh is felt again and again."

How much longer?

How much longer would so many nights bring that nightmare of the phone, ringing louder and louder in the darkness, shattering sleep along with everything else.

In this nightmare he cannot answer the insistent jangling of the phone. He can only stare at it, paralyzed, as the sound echoes in his ears, louder and louder. He knows what he will hear when he answers.

How much longer will the simple motions of everyday life bring back crashing reminders of reality? Reminders that are impossible to avoid but only serve as that knife, plunging into the skin again and again.

How much longer will his only solace be that bottle of scotch hidden in the bottom of a desk drawer? It's all he has. His work and that bottle of scotch serve as the best distractions, the best ways to keep his mind occupied through each long day and each interminably quiet night.

Almost a year and a half has gone by, the world has moved on without him. He has tried to camouflage this fact, but there are times when each day is still a struggle. It is possible for life to go on when time has stopped, he has learned. He has learned too many things he never wanted to know in this, the longest year and a half of his life.

* * *

_Chapter 1_

It had been a busy fall. Jamie had to fight the urge to smack someone as yet another case file hit her desk on the morning of October 17th.

_Do Jack and I have to try every single A felony in the city of __New York__?_ She thought, although she knew that was an exaggeration. The other ADA's in Major Felonies were just as busy, and Jamie's sympathy for the frazzled calendar clerks was enough to cancel out her strong desire to run for the hills.

Before she had a chance to pull the new file out of her mailbox, her phone rang.

"Ross."

"Hey, Jamie. We were wondering when would be a good time to talk to you about the Galvez accident report?"

"Detective Curtis," Jamie replied, "What accident report?"

"You didn't get it? You were supposed to receive it yesterday."

"You should see my desk, Rey," Jamie sighed, frustrated, "Let me look." She reached into her inbox and pulled out the file they'd handed her this morning.

"Here it is," She said, paging through the file and glancing at her appointment book, "This afternoon, 2:00pm, does that work for you and Lennie?"

"Yeah, I think we can squeeze that in," Curtis said, "McCoy's office?"

"Yep. I'll see you then." Jamie hung up the phone and began to read through the accident report. She had barely made it past the first page when another voice interrupted her morning.

"Any word yet from the Christie jury?" Jack was standing over her, carrying a cup of coffee, the scent of outdoors still clinging to his jacket.

_Again,_ Jamie thought to herself, _It's__ okay for you to show up an hour late. If I did that, you'd have my ass._

"No, not yet. You don't say hello in the morning anymore?"

"Hello," Jack said, irritably, "Why doesn't Scarletti hang them already?"

"You want a hung jury?"

"No," Jack reconsidered a moment, "I just want that one off the table."

Jamie could sympathize. The case had been one of their more difficult ones, one of the many that appeared to be taking a toll on Jack. On occasions, like this morning, he would show up late. His mood would swing, too – from reasonably upbeat to angry to downright prickly. And he worked – constantly. Jamie had called the office more than once to find Jack still there at ten or eleven at night.

She was used to this with Jack, though. He had good days and bad days. This already appeared to be shaping up as one of the bad ones.

"We just caught a new case," Jamie handed the report to Jack, "Briscoe and Curtis are coming by this afternoon to discuss it."

"When?" Jack asked, glancing at the file.

"Two."

"All right," Jack said handing the file back to Jamie, "I'll read it later. I'll be in my office if you need me."

The way Jack shut the door behind him indicated to Jamie that needing him would be a bad idea.

Curtis and Briscoe showed up at two, as promised, surprising Jamie, who had absorbed herself in trial paperwork for the Blair case. The judge had recessed court until Monday morning, and she had scheduled a meeting with a newly discovered witness for later that afternoon.

"Hey, counselor," Curtis teased, "Are we interrupting you?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. McCoy's in his office." Jamie stood and headed for Jack's door, "I think he's read the report."

"What do you think?" Briscoe asked her.

"It seems suspicious," Jamie agreed, knocking on the door.

"That's what we thought." Curtis said.

"Come in," Jack called, and Jamie showed the two detectives into the office.

Jamie immediately noticed the somber tone of Jack's voice. The report she'd received that morning was sitting open on the table in his office, but somehow she got the feeling he'd stopped reading it halfway through. One of the accident photos had been turned face down on top of the other paperwork in the file.

The detectives sat down at the table and began explaining their take on the case. Jack began turning the pages of the report, but Jamie noticed he avoided the photographs.

"We've questioned Susan Young," Lennie told them, "But I don't think she was driving."

"Why not?" Jamie asked.

"Her bruise is on the right side. Puts her in the passenger seat." Rey explained.

"Does she have any connection to the Lavell family?" Jamie asked. Henry Lavell, one of the accident victims, appeared to be the target of the driver – if this turned out to be anything but an accident, that is.

"They never heard of her. By the way, both the Lavell kids are alibied." Lennie added, as if it were an afterthought.

"We checked her LUDs for the past month, nothing that traces to the Lavells." Rey noted.

"So it could be just an accident," Jamie said. The file hadn't convinced her otherwise, and besides, if it were an accident, this case would be off her desk. One less thing to worry about.

Jack looked up from the file and glared at her for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low.

"Three people run down," He said, "To you that's just an accident?"

Jamie returned his glare with a look of surprise. The tone of his voice was one of cool fury, one she hadn't heard him direct at her before. Something about this case was upsetting him, she realized, making his already bad mood worse.

"Can't we put some paper on Ms. Young and force her to talk?" Lennie asked.

"If we subpoena her to the grand jury, she'll ask for immunity." Jamie answered, glad for an excuse to look at Lennie.

"Until we know how she's involved, I don't want to give it to her." Jack shook his head, eyes fixed on the file in front of him. He looked over at Lennie, "You keep the pressure up, you think she'll come around?"

"We'll lean on her just as hard as you let us." Lennie responded. Jack nodded his agreement, and the two detectives stood up to leave.

"We'll let you know how it goes." Curtis said as Jamie walked them out.

"Yeah, sure." Jamie sat back at her desk and tried to focus on her work, but she found the eerie vibe from the meeting impossible to shake. _Something is very wrong here_, she thought, _this case is bothering me already_.

After Jamie and the detectives left, Jack took the accident report and stashed it in his box. He reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch and a glass. It took two shots before the images of the Galvez/Lavell accident began to fade from his mind. And another shot of mouthwash to disguise the scent of scotch on his breath.

It had been a rough night. The Christie case had been bothering him ever since he'd delivered his closing statement the week before, and last night he had given in – again – to the urge to drink until nothing bothered him anymore. The problem with that was, eventually he would wake up sober, and feeling worse than before. Unhappy _and_ hung over – not a great combination.

Before that, Jack thought he'd been doing pretty well recently. Drinking less. He'd been able to focus, which had been on and off. He had even been able to convince himself, at least lately, that the worst might be over, that he was finally out from under the dark cloud which had been following him.

He had stopped attributing this dark cloud to anything like grief. Sure, for the first few weeks after… he had been depressed, drinking more than usual, but that was over. Whatever this lingering melancholy was, it had nothing to do with…

Well, it had nothing to do with her.

After looking at the accident report Jamie had handed him that morning, however, Jack felt as if he'd been hit in the chest. Those accident photos had really done it – his body had responded by breaking out into a cold sweat, accompanied by a sick stomach and shaking hands. And yet he had to look at them. It was part of his job.

Bodies covered in tire marks.

As Jack swished the Listerine around in his mouth, he worked on convincing himself that these photos had only affected him this way because they were grisly, like all murder scene photos. It was the hangover, maybe. There had to be a good reason.

Three people run down, he thought, is not an accident, no matter what Jamie thinks. Someone is going to pay for this one.

Jamie knocked on the door, giving him just enough time to hide the bottle before stuck her head in.

"Jack, Ottenberg just showed up."

"All right, let's talk to him." Jack said, pulling the Blair case files out of the pile on his desk for a quick refresher. Navy Lieutenant Kirsten Blair had killed her ex-lover and was claiming self-defense, and the strength of her image – she was one of the first female fighter pilots – had been a sticking point in the trial. The judge had recessed court until Monday due to a previous commitment, giving Jack and Jamie enough time to get a better look at her Navy record.

Of course, Jack thought, frustrated, if Ruthie Miller hadn't pushed the trial date so far forward while the Navy dragged it's heels, he would have had all these witnesses ahead of time.

Jack stood to greet William Ottenberg as Jamie showed him into the office.

"Thanks for coming in," He said, shaking Ottenberg's hand, "Have a seat."

"Well, I'm glad to help," He sat. Jamie perched on the edge of Jack's desk, "I hadn't even heard about the trial until you called me."

"We appreciate anything you have to tell us." Jamie said, but Jack could already sense she was hoping to uncover holes in his story. Jamie admired Blair, and was less suspicious of her motives than Jack, which had already caused several arguments while they worked on the case.

"What, exactly, was your capacity when you were in the Navy?" Jack asked.

"I was landing signal officer on the _Minnesota_. I was there when Blair trained for night landings. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have qualified her."

"Why not?" Jack asked.

"She had five downs."

"Downs?"

"Major mistakes. Everybody else, it's two downs, you're out."

"Two?" Jack asked, "They don't give you much leeway, do they?"

"No, sir," Ottenberg replied, revealing his military past in his choice of words, "You don't want a pilot that can't land the damn plane."

"Why'd they make an exception for Blair?"

Ottenberg hesitated a moment to meet Jamie's critical eye. He looked away before he spoke again. "They were under orders to qualify some female pilots ASAP. This stuff burns me up."

"What," Jamie spoke up, "Qualifying female pilots?"

"No, Ma'am," Ottenberg replied defensively, "Qualifying bad pilots."

"She's that bad?" Jamie asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"She got better." Ottenberg stood, "She's never going to be an F-14 pilot. You think I'm wrong?" He held up a tape, "Listen to this. I kept it to cover my ass. And I'm glad I did."

Jack took the tape from him and looked over at Jamie.

"Do we have a tape player anywhere?"

The tape – which contained a recording of Lieutenant Blair cursing out her trainer and failing to make the required training landing – was extremely incriminating, considering the statements Blair had made in court about her controlled reaction to danger. After Ottenberg left, Jack placed the tape in an evidence envelope and handed it to Jamie.

"Get the clerk to make a copy for Ruthie, we'll send it over to her tomorrow."

Jamie nodded, taking the envelope, "Ruthie Miller's going to have a heart attack."

"I'll break it to her gently," Jack replied, "I'm meeting her for dinner in an hour."

Jamie raised her eyebrows.

"Really? Professional or otherwise?" She smiled.

"We've known each other for years," Jack rolled his eyes, "It's strictly friendship."

"Ah." Jamie nodded, smiling, "Do you think you might be interested in anything else?"

"With Ruthie?" Jack shook his head. He wondered, exactly, where this conversation was going.

"With anyone."

"Jamie, if this is a proposition…" Jack began, his eyes twinkling. Jamie smiled back, happy to see his sense of humor back.

"Not for me. I have a friend from my old firm, I think she'd be perfect for you. You think you're up for it?"

No, Jack thought, but then he reconsidered. The new evidence in the Blair case had improved his mood, and a date might not be a bad idea, after all. Something else to do with an evening other than work until midnight or sit at home and drink himself to sleep.

"Why not," Jack said out loud, "Give me her number, I'll give her a call."

Jamie smiled, partly with relief. She had been waiting for a good moment to suggest this to Jack, and the moment hadn't come until now. Even so, Jack's reactions were so erratic – she was thankful he hadn't bitten her head off.

"I'll get this to the clerk, and then I'm going home," Jamie waved the envelope, "Katie and I are going to watch _The Lion King_ again tonight."

Jack nodded and began to put his coat on, "I'm already running late - Ruthie's going to be on her third martini by the time I get there."

She was only on her second, and not the least bit bothered by the fact that Jack was a few minutes late.

"No, it's fine. You're never on time anyway, I was expecting time for another drink."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Jack said as he removed his jacket and sat down across from Ruthie.

"Nah. So. Monday, are you ready for me to win yet another case against you?"

"If you remember, you won the last one only because I helped you."

"Ah, yeah, excuses, excuses." Ruthie smiled, "I'm glad you agreed to meet me, Jack."

"It's not often I have time for dinner with a friend," Jack agreed, "I could use a break. So could you – you'll be busy tomorrow. Some new discovery is on it's way over."

"Oh, I don't want to talk about work," Ruthie moaned, "Enough already."

"All right," Jack agreed, "No more work for the rest of the evening."

"Thank you," Ruthie said, with an exaggerated sigh, "Now. What have you been up to lately?"

"Work." Jack replied, smiling. Ruthie rolled her eyes.

"So Andrew tells me, 'No, Mom, I sent Goldie down the water slide, like at the park!' He thought that flushing his goldfish down the toilet was the same as, you know, sending him down the water slide at the water park. That's the last time I take him anywhere, I'm telling you."

Jack laughed, more at Ruthie's way of telling a story than at the story itself, "So was he devastated?"

"Eh. I didn't actually tell him that he killed the fish, I just told him he had sent him off to swim in the ocean."

Jack laughed again, and Ruthie shook her head.

"I just wonder where kids get these crazy ideas. Certainly not from sensible, responsible parents like us."

Jack's laugh was a snort, "Oh, sure. My daughter once decided to bring her hamster along on one of her weekend visits. But she decided to stick the hamster in the bottom of her overnight bag."

"And?"

"The damn thing suffocated, of course!"

Ruthie's laugh was loud enough that other people in the restaurant glanced over their shoulders at her.

"And?"

"I took the same way out that you did – told her the hamster died of natural causes. I had to give it a full funeral in the park. She made me buy flowers."

Ruthie laughed again, and this time even the waiter gave her a stern look.

"Whoops, I think I better tone it down a bit," She said, "I've definitely had a bit too much to drink when stories about dead pets make me laugh that hard."

Jack smiled and took another sip of his own drink.

"Why don't we get together more often?" Ruthie asked, "How long has it been since we've seen each other before this?"

Jack thought for a moment, then remembered the last time he'd seen Ruthie.

"It's been about a year and a half," he said quietly, and he could see by the look in her eyes that Ruthie had remembered, and that she regretted bringing it up.

"Jack," She said, "I'm sorry. I have a big mouth."

"No," Jack shook his head, "It's fine."

The last time he had seen Ruthie before the Blair case landed on his desk was at Claire's funeral. The pain he'd felt in his chest that afternoon – while looking at the accident photos – threatened to return.

"How's your new assistant working out? She's smart, Jack." Ruthie spoke again, attempting to change the subject.

"Jamie? She's great," Jack nodded, sipping his drink again, "Used to be a defense attorney, actually."

"Ah, I knew there was something I liked about her," Ruthie teased, "But tell me, Jack, have you been living up to your reputation with this one, too?"

Jack only stared at her a moment, and Ruthie flinched.

"Ah, I'm sorry," She said, coming as close to blushing as she ever would, "There goes my big mouth again."

"It's all right," Jack repeated, "I think my days as the office Don Juan are over."

"What am I hearing?" Ruthie asked, feigning a look of shock, "There must be a cog shifting in the universe somewhere. Jack McCoy, becoming a settled old bachelor?"

"Ruthie, you're exaggerating," Jack gave her a weary look, and Ruthie laughed – more quietly this time.

"Maybe so. I don't know about you, Jack, but I feel old, hearing you say that."

Jack nodded. Ruthie looked at her watch.

"My babysitter is about to go into double overtime," She sighed, "And you tell me I have a long day tomorrow."

"So do I," Jack finished the last of his drink in one swig and stood up, "I have to catch a flight tomorrow, to interview a witness up at Attica."

"Ugh." Ruthie groaned, "I hate that place." She stood, and Jack leaned over so she could pretend to plant a kiss on his cheek, "See you Monday – prepare to have your butt kicked."

Jack replied, smiling, "Always a pleasure, Ruthie."

"Likewise, Jack. Don't be a stranger."

She made her way – somewhat unsteadily – into a cab, and Jack made his own way back to his apartment. He was too tired to reflect on the dark emptiness of his home by the time he got there – too exhausted to even check the blinking light on his answering machine. It could all wait until tomorrow morning.

He stripped off his clothes and took a shower, then crawled into bed, almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The phone was ringing.

Louder and louder. The sound was echoing off the walls – did phones usually ring like that?

The sound was unbearable, yet he could not answer. He was paralyzed, staring at the phone, which by now ringing so loudly it was threatening to fall off the nightstand.

He knows what he will hear when he answers.

If he doesn't pick up the phone, no matter how loudly it rings, he will never hear that news. Everything will stay the same.

And yet the phone keeps ringing.

Jack woke with a start, breathing hard. He glanced at the clock next to his bed. 5:26AM.

At least this time the nightmare had waited until close to morning to startle him out of a sound sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Still the same as the previous chapter.

_Chapter 2_

Jack stopped at a coffee shop later that morning for a jolt of caffeine. As he waited in line, he thought for a moment about the dream he'd had last night – "the phone nightmare," he called it. It had been a while since he'd had it – he was prone to recurring dreams, but this one seemed to have finally given him a break. The conversation with Ruthie, and those accident photos – that must have triggered it. He'd had too many reminders yesterday. He would have to avoid them today.

When he arrived at work, he ran into Jamie and Adam in the elevator. Jamie smiled at him.

"How was your dinner?"

"Good." Jack nodded.

"What dinner?" Adam rasped.

"Jack had dinner with Ruthie Miller last night," Jamie advised him.

"Are you in the habit of having dinner with defense counsel in the middle of a trial?" Adam asked, but Jack could tell the question wasn't serious – just Adam being curmudgeonly – and he ignored it.

"What time is your flight this afternoon?" Adam continued.

"One o'clock," Jamie answered for him, "We're meeting with Rigg and his attorney at four."

"When are you coming back?" Adam asked.

"The flight is scheduled for Saturday afternoon," Jack said, "Depending on the answer we get, we might be able to get something done on Saturday."

"Saturday." Adam sniffed, "Sure."

"It's worth a try. We have to be back in court for Blair on Monday, this is our only chance."

"I got a call last night," Jamie said, "Briscoe and Curtis made an arrest last night, we should be getting the paperwork this morning. Did Briscoe get a hold of you?" She asked Jack.

"He left a message, I got it this morning." Jack nodded.

"What's the case?" Adam asked.

"The defendant's name is Josh Burdett," Jamie said, "He's accused of killing his wife to conceal the fact that he's black. They put their baby, who has noticeably African-American features, up for adoption, and the wife changed her mind, wanted the baby back. "

"How has he managed to hide his race?" Adam asked.

"Apparently he's very light-skinned, " Jamie said, "From what Curtis told me, it seems he had everybody fooled. His whole life was a charade. It's pathetic."

The elevator doors had opened on the tenth floor by this time, and the three of them began walking.

"Maybe thirty, forty years ago it made more sense." Jack said.

"Back then they had lynch mobs and bull whips. Now they use toilet plungers. Progress. You confirmed that he's the father of this child?" Adam asked.

"We're just waiting for a blood sample from the baby." Jack answered.

"What else?"

Jamie thought for a moment, remembering what Rey had told her the night before, "Weak alibi, forensics to establish the manner of death."

"His motive being that he didn't want anyone to know he was black. Why?"

"Shame, loss of friends, his work. I can just imagine what he was afraid of." By this time they had reached Jamie's desk.

"Don't imagine it, prove it." Adam headed off towards his office, and Jamie looked over at Jack as the phone on her desk began to ring. She ignored the phone for a moment while she pulled a small piece of paper out of pocket and handed it to Jack.

"Madeleine's phone number. I promised her you'd call." She turned to answer her phone, leaving Jack to stare at the number.

Why did I agree to this? He wondered. He contemplated trying to get out of it, but slid the paper into his pocket. He'd enjoyed his dinner with Ruthie last night – most of it, anyway – why not give it another try?

Jamie hung up, and Jack looked over at her.

"That was Curtis," She said, "The adoptive mother's disappeared with the baby."

"Do we have their address?" Jack asked. Jamie searched her inbox and pulled out the file.

"It's in Queens," She said, "Mr. and Mrs. Jerry O'Brien."

"Let's get over there, then," Jack sighed, "With any luck, we'll be able to get this out of the way so we can catch our flight."

Jamie pulled her keys out of her purse.

"Let's go." She sighed, glancing over at the work she'd planned to finish that morning. It would have to wait – again.

Mr. O'Brien and his lawyer were anything but helpful, turning the sojourn to Queens into a futile trip. O'Brien was not going to allow anything that threatened their adoption of the baby, an emotion Jack could understand - if this family had not been standing in the way of a homicide case.

"We need that test." Jamie commented as she and Jack left the O'Brien's.

"We need to turn up the heat on O'Brien," Jack agreed, "If he's getting paid off by Burdett, he's on the hook for a lot more than contempt." Contempt was the only thing he'd been able to think of as far as charging O'Brien.

"I'll get Briscoe and Curtis on it," Jamie replied quietly, thinking of how much they'd love hearing from her again. Their workload was at least as heavy as hers, maybe more so.

"And talk to Burdett's employers, let's nail down his motive."

"I'll have to do it on Tuesday," Jamie sighed, "That is, if we can finish up the Blair case on Monday."

"Blair is testifying on Monday," Jack reminded her, "Once we get that tape in, she'll probably agree to a plea. Plan on Tuesday, and we'll just have to see what happens."

Jamie looked at her watch, "It's already eleven," She said, "We're going to have to hurry if we're going to make it to LaGuardia in time."

Jamie dropped Jack off at the office, which gave him a chance to grab his overnight bag and make a few quick phone calls. As he changed clothes, Madeleine's phone number slipped from his pocket. He looked at it for a moment, then picked up the phone again.

"Madeleine Lerner." Her voice sounded businesslike, almost stern.

"Hello, Madeleine? This is Jack McCoy, Jamie Ross gave me your number. She said you'd be expecting my call?

"Oh," her voice changed, instantly lightening, "It's nice to hear from you. I was wondering if you'd actually call."

"Jamie didn't make me out to be reliable, did she?"

"It's not that," Madeleine had a very pleasant voice, "She did say you're busy, which I can understand."

"Well, I can squeeze in dinner, occasionally."

"Would Monday night be one of those occasions?" Madeleine asked.

"I think I could fit that in," Jack said, and they worked out the arrangements.

Jack met Jamie in front of the Commonwealth Airlines ticket counter at LaGuardia, forty-five minutes before their flight was scheduled to leave. She was already holding her boarding pass, and gestured towards the long line in front of the counter.

"Don't wait in that," She said, "Check in at the gate, otherwise we'll miss it."

The two of them headed over to the security checkpoint.

"So," Jack said, "I gave Madeleine a call."

"Is that why you're late?"

"No –" Jack began, but he was interrupted.

BEEEEEEEEEEP.

"Please step back and remove any metal objects from your pockets," the security agent waved him back. Jack rolled his eyes and emptied his pockets.

"All right, now try it."

Jack stepped through the metal detector.

BEEEEEEEEEEP.

"Sir, there must be something metal you're not remembering. Any jewelry?"

Jack scowled. He looked through the metal detector at Jamie, who was trying to hide the fact that she was laughing.

"No," He said, checking his pockets again, "Here's a quarter, could that be it?"

"Try it." The security person held out the basket.

BEEEEEEEEEEP.

"What the hell!" Jack exclaimed. Jamie gave up trying to hide her laughter.

"Sir, check your pockets again," The security agent rolled her eyes. Jack fought back his anger and dug into every pocket he could find. He pulled out a keychain he thought he'd lost ages ago, and dropped it into the basket.

"All right, try it again."

Jack sighed and walked through the metal detector. No beep.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Jamie teased as she handed him his bag.

"Ha, ha, very funny." Jack said.

"So, you were saying you gave Madeleine a call?"

"I did. We're meeting on Monday night for dinner."

"That's wonderful!" Jamie exclaimed, "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Only when trying to get through airport security." Jack replied.

The flight was already boarding when they reached the gate. Jack received his boarding pass from the gate agent and lined up behind Jamie.

"Do you have the Carlson file?" He asked.

"Sure, right here." Jamie reached into her briefcase and handed it to Jack.

"Inflight reading." He said.

"I can think of better things," Jamie pulled a novel out of her bag, "Inflight entertainment."

The flight took off fairly quickly, given the usual traffic congestion at LaGuardia, and Jack skimmed through the Carlson file during the hour long trip. Lindsay Carlson had shot Dr. Mayer, who had testified at her father's murder trial, along with one other man. Apparently Carlson blamed him for her father's conviction. The ballistics report hinted that the gun that shot her father's victims was the same gun Carlson used to shoot Mayer, but they needed the gun to prove it. They'd already visited the Albany DA to see if she could help convince Carlson's father to tell them where he'd hidden the weapon – she'd grudgingly agreed to offer him a chance at parole as part of a deal. He scribbled a few notes in the file, then slipped it back in his briefcase.

He was glad Jamie had insisted on flying for this Attica trip, rather than driving. Ten hours in a car would have wasted time they didn't have – they'd been lucky to fit this meeting in at all, with the Blair trial going on – but the time constraint was not the only reason for his reluctance.

Jack turned and looked over the head of his sleeping seatmate to catch a glimpse of the clouds sailing by the window.

Rochester Airport was much smaller than LaGuardia. It took only twenty minutes before the two of them were on their way to Attica.

"God, I haven't been up here in ages." Jamie looked out the window at the landscape along the Thruway.

"So we offer the possibility of parole as the deal," was Jack's response. He didn't want to talk about the last time he'd been to Attica, and that seemed to be the direction the conversation was headed.

"I hate the idea of letting a murderer loose on society," Jamie frowned, "Is that all we have? I know the Albany County D.A. agreed, but…"

"I can't think of anything else. We can also offer to reduce the murder charges against Carlson."

"All right," Jamie sighed, "Do you think if we get this over with fast enough, we can fly back tonight?"

"If we get a deal, we'll have to discuss his testimony with him tomorrow, or come back here in a few weeks."

"Damn. I have no desire to spend the night here."

"Neither do I," Jack replied, "But we may have to."

The counsel room at Attica where Rigg's attorney had scheduled their meeting was on the opposite side of the building from wing which housed the death row inmates – and Attica's execution chamber. Rigg's attorney met them there, while one of the guards went to get Rigg from his cell.

"Look," the attorney began, "This case has been a nightmare for me."

"Imagine that," Jamie replied sarcastically, "You mean you don't enjoy defending murderers?"

The lawyer opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted by the metallic sliding of the door. Gerald Rigg, an older, heavyset man in a prison jumpsuit, ignored them all as he sat down next to his attorney.

"I was finished with this case a year ago," The lawyer continued.

"When I ran out of money," Rigg interrupted him.

He looked at Rigg.

"I did the trial, I did the direct appeal, that's all I was required to do," He looked over at Jack, "Now I drive all the way from Albany to listen to this?"

"We're prepared to drop murder one down to murder two against his daughter, and we're giving your client an opportunity you haven't been able to offer." Jack countered.

"An opportunity to sell out his daughter for a chance at parole in twenty-three years? He'd have better luck claiming I screwed up."

_It wouldn't surprise me if you had, _Jamie thought. She turned to Rigg. "I read your brief. I wouldn't pack your suitcase just yet."

"Maybe you haven't read Acevedo v. US down in New York," Rigg snarled, lacing the words "New York" with contempt.

Jailhouse lawyers. "You should give the dissent a closer read," Jamie replied, "You're here to stay, Mr. Rigg."

"You tell us how your daughter ended up with your gun, you get a chance at parole." Jack added.

"Parole after fifteen years," Rigg's attorney jumped in. Jack looked over at him.

"You're lucky to get any offer at all," He said.

"I wouldn't wish this life on anybody," Rigg glared at them both, "Especially my own kid. Even if I could answer your questions, I wouldn't." He stood and began moving towards the door, "You can all go to hell."

He yelled for the guard to open the door, and his attorney followed him out.

Jack sighed and began putting his paperwork back in his briefcase. An hour long flight, followed by an hour long drive, and all for nothing.

"Well, it was worth a shot. Niagara Falls is only forty-five minutes away, you ever been?" He asked Jamie. He was only half joking.

"When I was nine," Jamie sounded unhappy, "My brothers tried to push me in." She thought for a moment, then looked up at Jack, "Maybe we don't need Rigg to connect her to the gun."

"If Albany homicide couldn't find the gun…"

"They don't know what we know," Jamie interrupted, "They tracked Rigg, not his daughter."

Jack thought about this for a moment, then took his briefcase.

"Go over it with Briscoe and Curtis when we get back," He suggested, "Maybe they can help track Carlson's whereabouts two years ago."

"I'll call them on Monday morning," Jamie agreed as she flashed her identification for the guard and signed the sign-out sheet. Jack followed her, and the heavy metal door clanged shut behind them.

"Well, do you want to head back to the airport? It's only six, maybe we can hop a flight back to New York tonight," Jack suggested, "Or we could go to Niagara Falls. I promise I won't try to push you in."

"Airport," Jamie said, "I'm not taking any chances."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it is Friday night. All of our flights into New York City are full." The airline's counter agent had a practiced tone to her voice, as if she'd repeated this phrase for a thousand crabby travelers. Jamie groaned.

"What about tomorrow morning?" She asked.

"We have plenty of seats on the morning flights. I have a 7:10, an 8:35, a 9:42…"

"7:10." Jamie said, and it was Jack's turn to groan.

"No problem," the agent replied, typing into her computer, "I have you both set up for the 7:10am flight." She handed them the new tickets.

"Well, I guess we're stuck," Jamie sighed as they left the counter, "I hate spending the night away from Katie."

"We could try driving to Buffalo, see if we can get a flight out of there," Jack suggested, "Or we could drive back to New York."

"I'm not spending eight hours in a car," Jamie shot back, "We'll get there almost as fast if we just wait for that flight in the morning."

"Up to you." Jack shrugged.

When they'd checked in at the hotel, Jamie thought she saw Jack's eye wandering towards the door of the hotel bar. She decided to intercept him before he made the suggestion.

"I am really starving," She suggested, "I saw a restaurant… do you feel like joining me?"

"Sure," Jack replied amiably, "It's been a while since lunch."

"This is a step down from the places I used to stay when Neil was footing the bill."

"I told you when you first started, get used to being on the county's budget," Jack said, smiling. Jamie rolled her eyes.

"I just want to get back to Katie," She sighed, "Poor kid, she has to spend the night with her father."

Jack raised his eyebrows at Jamie.

"No, I don't say things like that in front of her. Besides, Neil isn't bad at being a father. He was a lousy husband, and he's turned into an evil little man, but he loves his daughter."

Jack only nodded, and Jamie sighed again.

"You never told me how your marriage ended," she said, "You know all the down and dirty details about mine."

"There's not much to say," Jack shrugged, "We grew apart. By the time I knew what hit me, she had moved to California and married someone else. It was a long time ago."

"I bet you didn't try to sue your ex-wife for custody every three months."

"No. I had my daughter on alternating holidays and for two weeks every summer. I thought of asking for more, but I didn't want to disrupt her life. She turned out pretty well, you know."

"No thanks to you," Jamie teased, and it was Jack's turn to roll his eyes.

"Is Neil at it again?"

"No. At least, not this week. I just don't trust him."

"I don't blame you." Jack remembered his encounters with Jamie's ex-husband – Jamie's "evil little man" description fit him perfectly - "But the last time you had to face him in court, you did pretty well."

Jamie smiled.

"That was really more satisfying than it should have been," She admitted, "The Ellison case was a killer, but I enjoyed the ending."

Jack nodded again, remembering the night the jury had come in with the death penalty against Heidi Ellison's murderer, a studio boss represented by Jamie's ex-husband. The verdict was a fairly major victory, a nice little plum for the resume, but Jack hadn't been able to celebrate. The emptiness of that moment – no one to celebrate a victory with - had been overwhelming, another painful and glaring reminder in a life that was suddenly filled with them.

Jamie noticed the change in Jack's expression.

"What?" She asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Jack tried to come back to the present, "that was one hell of a win."

"All right," Jamie said, "Then which case are you proudest of?"

"Jamie, I've been a prosecutor for twenty-something years. Who remembers?"

"You remember," Jamie said, "I remember every trial I've worked on since I graduated law school."

Jack thought for a few minutes.

"I have to admit, I enjoyed sending Willard Tappan to prison, that was one of my better moments."

"I remember reading about that. He had some lawyer killed?"

"Mmmhmm. Some lawyer who had found a big chunk of his missing money. He managed to manipulate some poor schmuck that he'd already swindled into shooting the guy."

"How did he manage that?"

"Curran – that was the shooter's name – was already a little off the rails over losing his life savings in Willard Tappan's investments, and he managed to find Tappan at the halfway house he was staying in after the feds let him out of jail. Tappan told him that the victim was hiding his money, and Curran went over to the victim's office and shot him in the head."

"Murder two, depraved indifference?"

"That's what we filed initially, but Curran claimed Tappan hired him."

"Did he?"

Jack shrugged, "That's what he testified to."

"But did you believe him?" Jamie asked. Jack shrugged again.

"As Claire said, the story was awfully convenient. The jury believed him, that's what counts."

The casual mention of Claire Kincaid's name caught Jamie's ears. Jack rarely spoke about her – he tended to avoid the subject.

"Jack, that's suborning perjury." She said.

"No," Jack corrected her, "I had no reason not to believe him."

"Well, all right, maybe you're on the side of the angels, but you were close to the line."

"That's what Claire said," Jack admitted, "and you're both right. But Tappan did manipulate Curran, and therefore he's responsible for the murder. Curran's convenient story just made our case that much stronger."

Jamie shook her head, "That's your proudest moment?"

"Five people committed suicide after being swindled by Tappan," Jack replied, "I think he deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison," He took another swig of the beer he'd ordered to go with his sandwich, and continued, "Then there was the woman who arranged the kidnapping of her child as part of a custody dispute."

"You're kidding," Jamie gasped, "Who would do a thing like that?"

"Karen Gaines," Jack replied, "Her daughter was killed by the kidnapper, and during the kidnapper's arraignment she brought a gun into the courtroom and shot him."

"Oh, I remember hearing about that." Jamie nodded, "I remember thinking I probably would have done the same thing if someone had hurt my child."

"Maybe, but I doubt you would have paid someone to kidnap Katie just to get back at Neil Gorton. And I doubt you would have shot him if things didn't go the way you wanted them to."

"You think she shot the guy to shut him up?"

"I'm not sure if I do, it wasn't something we could conclusively prove. Claire didn't. She was more generous than I was. Strange, though, because she was in the courtroom when Gaines shot Capetti – she ended up covered in blood. If Gaines hadn't been such a good shot, she…"

Jack stopped dead. Claire had been pretty shaken up after the experience – and although Jack refused to admit it, even to Claire, so had he. That was part of the reason he'd been so eager to get Karen Gaines – she had come within inches of shooting the person who, he realized at the time, was the most important in his life. Claire was better able to depersonalize the incident – she was understanding, at first, until their investigation revealed the truth about Karen Gaines' involvement in her daughter's death.

He did not want to talk about this.

Jamie was waiting for him to continue.

"It's just a miracle no one was hurt." He finished. Jamie nodded and took a sip of her iced tea.

"You don't talk about Claire Kincaid too often." She said, after a pause.

"No," Jack acknowledged, "I don't."

"But you miss her." Jamie continued.

"Hey, it's getting late," was Jack's reply, "We have to make a 7:10 flight in the morning."

"Don't change the subject," Jamie ordered, "Answer me."

"You didn't ask a question."

"Do you miss her?" Jamie rephrased.

"Yes," Jack shot back, "and I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't," Jack said, "Can we drop this?"

"No," Jamie insisted, "Obsessing in silence is not healthy."

Jack rested his head in his hand for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," He said after a pause, "Of course I miss her."

Before Jamie had a chance to question him any further, Jack signed for the bill and stood, stretching a little.

"That was pretty good, given the general quality of two-star hotel restaurants," he said, "But it's late, and you committed me to an early morning tomorrow."

"You're right," Jamie said, standing and giving up the conversation, "But this time, when we get to the airport, check your pockets _before_ we go through security."

Chapter 3 coming soon...

(And yes, it was possible in 1998 to get through airport security without a boarding pass. Don't try it now, though...)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long - real life has a bad habit of getting in the way.

Disclaimer: Same as before.

* * *

Chapter 3

Jamie came in early Monday morning for a chance at re-organizing her desk – sorting out all the work that had somehow landed in front of her this fall. She spread her files out on her desk and began making a list on a pad of paper.

_People v. Christie:_

_Jury still out._

_People v. Kirsten Blair:_

_Monday: Blair's testimony_

_Tuesday: Closing statements_

_People v. Terry Lawlor:_

_Arrest and arraignment pending._

_People v. Lindsay Carlson:_

_Tuesday or Wednesday: Meet with B&C regarding murder weapon, whereabouts, etc. _

_People v. Joshua Burdett:_

_Tuesday or Wednesday: Question witnesses_

_People v. Camacho, Cosgrove:_

_Pre-trial prep, trial begins next Wednesday. _

_People v. Susan Young:_

_Awaiting information from further police investigation._

There, now she felt organized.

Just in time for the phone to start ringing.

Jack walked in just as Jamie took the call from Judge Scarletti's clerk. The jury in the Christie case was in, after nine solid days of deliberations.

Jack sighed when Jamie told him the news.

"Call Judge McNeil, ask him if he'll delay Blair for an hour so we can get through this."

Jamie nodded and began dialing.

"Your honor, we've been out nine days. We've had forty ballots. We're unable to reach a verdict."

These were the words Jack had been dreading. Some idiot was willing to take Christie's warped anti-tyranny arguments at face value. The bastard had hung the jury.

"Is there any chance you could agree, given more time?" Judge Scarletti asked. The jury forewoman looked back at her fellow jurors for a moment, before turning back to the judge to answer.

"No, your honor."

Judge Scarletti waited a long moment before sighing, "All right, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have no choice but to declare a mistrial." The defendant cheered, and people on that side of the courtroom began rising from their seats in excitement. Scarletti had to raise his voice to finish his statement.

"The jury is dismissed."

Jack remained in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. The bastard had hung the goddamn jury.

And that bastard was now standing over him, smirking at him.

"Admit it, Mr. McCoy," he taunted, "We won."

Like hell you won, Jack thought, "You didn't win anything. The system you wanted to destroy won. See you back here in a couple of months. Enjoy your freedom while you have it."

It was all bravado, and Christie seemed to know it as he sauntered off. Jamie was leaning towards him.

"If he only knew you could have stopped this trial and you didn't. You played it straight, Jack. That rates as a moral victory."

Moral victory my ass, Jack thought, what good is a moral victory when Christie is out there preening for the cameras? What good is playing by the rules when it gets you nowhere?

"It may be a hollow one," He said to Jamie, "If these clowns could find even one person who would acquit them, what does that tell you about this country?"

_People v. Christie:_

_Jury still out._

_Discuss retrial date with Judge Scarletti. Jan-Feb?_

There was one bright spot to the day – Kirsten Blair crumbled on the stand, as Jack had predicted, and that afternoon, Ruthie agreed to a deal. Jamie was glad the trial was over, at least, but not all that happy to see Kirsten Blair – decorated navy pilot and role model for little girls all over the country – proved to be nothing more than a common, ordinary murderer. Both Jack and Jamie went home that afternoon depressed and disappointed – for different reasons.

After the declaration of the mistrial in the Christie case, Jack wasn't sure he wanted to keep his date with Madeleine that evening, but he couldn't think of an excuse to cancel. As he left the office, his mind wandered back to Jamie's words that morning –

"That counts as a moral victory, Jack."

What good was "a moral victory?"

It wasn't really a victory.

It wasn't even all that moral.

What was moral about Christie trumpeting his "Live Free or Die" bullshit in front of the press, when all he had done was orchestrate a robbery and a murder?

Not a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

A conviction is a conviction. You win or you don't. The needle goes in or it doesn't.

"A moral victory", when it comes right down to it, is nothing more than a defeat.

And he still couldn't stand losing.

It didn't take Jack more than a moment to recognize Madeleine when he reached the restaurant – she had described herself briefly over the phone, but Jack found he didn't need to try to remember what she had said. She looked exactly like the type of woman Jamie would set him up with – exactly the type of woman Jamie would have as a friend. She was slightly younger than he was – mid forties, maybe – with light brown hair. Jamie's description of him must have been as accurate, because Madeleine walked right up to him and shook his hand.

"Hi," She said, "You must be Jack McCoy."

She's confident, he thought, that's always a plus.

"You must be Madeleine," Jack smiled back, "Nice to meet you."

"I worked in the DA's office for a few years, as a clerk," Madeleine was saying, now that the conversation had turned to their careers, "I thought of applying as an ADA, but then I met my ex-husband, and decided to go into private practice after our daughter was born."

"And that's where you met Jamie?"

"Mmmm-hmm. That was before she left to go to Gorton and Steinhart, of course. I could never work for Neil Gorton."

Jack nodded his head in agreement.

"But don't tell Jamie I said that," Madeleine smiled, and Jack smiled back. Madeleine, he had noticed, smiled non-stop. She didn't laugh much, but she was always smiling. She was proving to be an antidote for his bitter mood – he enjoyed listening to her.

"Besides," Madeleine continued, "I don't know if I could have cut it as a prosecutor."

"Really?" Jack asked, "Why not?"

Madeleine shrugged, "I don't know, it's just a hunch. After my brother's accident, and the way his case was handled, I realized I made the right decision in not continuing with the DA's office. It takes a different personality, but I'm sure you know that."

"What happened to your brother?" Jack asked, his curiosity piqued.

"He was hit by a drunk driver," Madeleine sighed, "Up in Westchester – that's where he and his wife live. He spent two full months in the hospital, and the guy who hit him – a year's probation and community service. It was ridiculous. I can't imagine myself ever signing off on a sentence like that."

"Well," Jack replied, slowly, "I have to say I don't always agree with sentencing either. Especially when it comes to DWI cases. At least with murder, there's the option of life in prison – or the death penalty."

"And that's what it is, murder." Madeleine said firmly, "If that driver had killed my brother, he would have received…"

"One to three years," Jack finished her sentence, "And he would have served twelve months."

Madeleine raised her eyebrows.

"Something tells me you have experience with this," She said.

Jack hesitated. Madeleine was waiting for him, with an empathy in her eyes he wasn't used to seeing. After all, she had been through something similar. Maybe she would understand.

And an understanding ear – one that wasn't telling him how unhealthy "obsessing" was, one that wasn't trying to force him to talk about it – was almost too good to be true.

"My…" How to describe her, exactly? Lover, co-worker, girlfriend? What word could he use to wrap his relationship with Claire up in a way this woman could understand?

"A good friend of mine…" He decided, even though the phrase didn't quite fit, "She was killed over a year ago by a drunk driver. And he got exactly twelve months for it."

"Oh…" Madeleine sighed again, "I'm so sorry," She reached across the table and laid her hand on Jack's, "How awful that must be. My brother – we weren't sure he was going to live at first. I can't imagine how it would have felt to lose him."

Jack nodded. Madeleine's hand on his was unusually comforting, the first comfort he'd felt in a while that didn't involve alcohol.

"This, actually…" He hesitated again, and Madeleine seemed to read his thoughts.

"She was more than a friend, I'm guessing," She said, and when Jack nodded his confirmation, she continued, "This is your first… since…"

Jack nodded again.

"Oh, Jack." She breathed, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know, Jamie didn't tell me…"

"No," Jack interrupted her, "It's all right."

"Well," Madeleine said after a few moments hesitation, "I'm glad you decided to take a chance tonight."

"I'm glad too," Jack said, smiling.

After dinner, they shared a cab as far as her apartment. He got out to see her to the door.

"Would you like to come up for a drink?" Madeleine asked as they stood on the steps, her smile wide and open. Jack could sense the invitation in her voice – and it wasn't just for a drink – and his first instinct was to take her up on it.

But something else, something he couldn't explain – it stopped him cold.

"I'd like to," He said, "But I have a busy day tomorrow."

"I do too," Madeleine said, looking disappointed, "Another time, maybe?"

Jack nodded, "Another time."

Jack knew he was expected to kiss her goodnight, which he did – on her cheek. They said their goodbyes, and Jack got back in the cab.

As he rode home, he reflected on Madeleine's invitation. It wasn't just for a drink, he knew, but it wasn't necessarily anything but friendship, either. She was open, empathetic, bright, funny – a lovely woman. Jamie had good taste. And Madeleine's invitation was to a beginning, to start something with no idea of where it may lead.

_Can we get that drink now? _

He had made that invitation, with no idea where it would end. He had opened himself up, he had set himself up.

Madeleine might have been just what he needed, but he didn't care

She wasn't what he wanted.

Jamie had to devote a good portion of the next day to interview witnesses for the Burdett case, despite the fact that she was just dying to ask Jack how his date had gone. She'd heard from Madeleine the night before.

"Jamie, he's quite passionate about his work, and you know I love that in a man."

Jamie laughed.

"So, what else?"

"I don't know – I'd love to see him again, but I don't know if he'd like to see me again."

"Why not?"

"You neglected to tell me that he lost his girlfriend a year ago." There was a hint of accusation in her voice.

"He told you about that?" Jamie asked, surprised he had mentioned it.

"He did," Madeleine confirmed, "And I doubt he's truly ready for anything more than a friendship. I would be fine with that, but… you could have warned me."

"I didn't think of it," Jamie stammered slightly, "I thought…"

"It's all right," Madeleine said, "If he wants to see me again, I'd be glad to. But if he doesn't, I'd understand."

It was already well into the afternoon before she even had time to have a conversation with Jack – he was waiting for her while she finished her phone calls.

"That's the fourteenth Burdett I've spoken to in Knoxville. Not one of them will claim Josh Burdett." Jack turned and walked into his office. Jamie followed.

"What about birth records?" He asked.

" They're in the Knox county clerk's office. They're working on it, but it might take some time. But there's nothing in his personal records either, no birth certificate, no relatives in his address book, no photos. A paternity test might be our only way to prove he's black."

"What's happening with the O'Briens?"

"The police haven't found any payoffs by Burdett, but they turned up this check." Jamie handed the check to Jack, who looked it over.

"Leonard Hillman, Esquire," He read as he sat down, "Twenty thousand dollars."

"Burdett wrote it a week before his wife died. Hillman specializes in employment discrimination claims." Jamie explained.

"Yeah, he sued this office two years ago. So what does a white male executive need with a civil rights attorney?"

"I'll ask." Jamie took the check back and started to walk towards the door.

Wait a second, she thought – this is my opportunity.

"By the way," She asked, turning around as she reached the door, "How'd it go last night?"

Jack had already begun working again, "With Madeleine? She's bright, attractive, funny, as advertised. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Jamie replied. She began walking back towards his desk. "In case you're wondering, she thought you were charming. Passionate."

Jack looked up at her.

"Passionate?" He looked back down.

"About your work." Jack gave a disbelieving snort. Jamie stepped closer.

How to say this, she wondered.

"She said you mentioned Claire Kincaid." Jamie began tentatively.

Jack slammed his pen down on the table and looked up. Jamie noticed, however, that he did not look directly at her.

"Because Madeleine's brother spent three months in the hospital thanks to a drunk driver. I was not obsessing."

"Don't worry," Jamie said, trying to soothe his anger, "For some reason, she'd like to see you again." She stepped out of the office.

That went well, she thought, sighing as she returned to her work.


End file.
